(I/H) 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 || mewgulf

apples.

It was way past noon and Mew could feel it. The heat was evident, almost longing to parasite onto another body. He felt beads of sweat starting form and would, without further ado, matt down his obsidian hair. He looked over at Tul to see the younger checking his pocket-watch. The lad, too, had noticed the swift motion of time slipping through their fingers.

And here they were, standing agape in the bakery's backyard with a woman in her fifties beaming brighter than the sun.

"That's a royal garden right there..." The older could hear Tul's words rolled down his tongue and left hanging loose on his plump lips. Frankly, it was way more than a mediocre garden Mew had ever seen and right now, it was unveiled right before his naked eyes. Bark, rough and a deep color of brown like grounded coffee beans, reeked the scent of heavenly earth. Emerald leaves, even a darker shade than the trees he had seen in the town market, swayed gently to the cool summer breeze. But most importantly, lurking in the shades and playing with the branches were various kinds of fruits, dangling provocatively and waiting to be harvested. Mew saw apples, a beautiful crimson red, as if it could turn into a fire ball and incinerated the whole plant in just a split second. Mew saw peaches, pinkish yellow, so soft, so tender and he guessed the sweetness would bloom right inside his palette like a flower in spring. But right there, at the end of the hedged garden were Mew's favourite - Oranges. Mew saw it, the beautiful golden spheres, as treacherous as twirling sun globes marveling in thin air.

"My, I'm flattened!" Madame Kanawut giggled, her pace steady with young men trailing behind her like mama and ducklings. Mew and Tul both felt like they were small again, the bare-footed boys who let curiosity paved their way through life seeing that they had never touched upon this abundance ever before. "It takes generations for these guys to grow hale and hearty like this," Madame Kanawut said, her eyes finally caught a glimpse of a frame trying to help himself a ladder against an apple tree. "Good things take time."

Maybe it wasn't just trees she was talking about.

"Hi mom!" Mew flinched a bit, his thoughts cut and he was pulled sharply back to earth by the sudden address, to which he mentally sighed. He just felt overwhelmed, from having to meet and greet more than two people and the unbearable scorching heat prickling his skin amidst the trees' shades. All thanks to mostly enclosing himself in his studio, but hey, at least it was cool and he would be at peace.

"Oh, and hello, monsieurs." A young boy roughly in his twenties with red checkered shirt and worn-out denim overalls. His hair, unkempt and curly like crow's nest shined under the noon hour heatwave. On his thick lips too, hugged the identical smile of Madame's Kanawut when he flashed them towards the new-founded gentlemen, who to him, had just been luckily chosen from the batches of Chiang Saen's well-read people. "I'm Kaownah,"

As curiosity still got the best of him, he handed out his full-to-the-rim wooden basket, in which sat apples, red and shimmering from the droplets of water still lingering on the bright red skin. "Welcome to our garden!"

"These fine gentlemen here wanted marmalade." Madame Kanawut rested her hands on her hips before leaning her weight on just one foot, to which Mew and Tul just snickered behind her since the woman reminded them ever so well about a middle-aged tailor back in their days, who continuously shuffled his weight whenever he pondered between his choices. Kaownah looked at them and cracked a small grin, seemingly amused at their actions.

"Weren't you supposed to ask Gulf?" The boy twisted, gathering the rest of his apples to put in another basket regardless his mother's imply. With all his might, he unleashed a small huff when the trolly carrying basketfuls of apples lifted up, creaking when he nudged the old thing forward. His biceps taut under the soft layers of checkered fabric, to which the young men just admired wordlessly. "Thought the brat would be in charge with the oranges."

"Then... Where is he?" Miss Kanawut asked, still whipping her head for traces of her son. "And stop calling your brother a brat, we know he's not like that."

"Oh he is!" Head held high and eyes kept forward, Kaownah raised his voice a little when his figure slowly faded into the distance, accompanying him with his listed chores. He still got apples to prepare and pies to bake. In no way he would ever slow down for someone else prior to the completion of his work. When the hem of Kaownah's overalls finally vanished behind the wooden door that led to the cozy bakery front, Mew heaved a sigh. He didn't know why Kaownah gave him such an aura that heavied his soul and surely, out of anyone he would ever put on a canvas, it would never ever be Kaownah. Only him lifting up the trolly would radiate the intimidation that seemingly overflowed each feature carved him. And how could he forget that farmer boy calling his brother a brat?

"Please excuse my son," Miss Kanawut clicked her tongue before shaking her head in faux disappointment, which made Tul patted her back in encouragement and also as a signal for her to continue to lead the way. "He's pretty rough but he'll be a dear when you get to know him."

Mew nodded and tried to distract his discomfort by squishing his toes between the baby green grass that tickled their feet upon each and every step they landed. A lively shade of lime bursted in Mew's eyes and just like magic, his mind unwinded. He looked over at Tul, his chestnut doe eyes were planted with sparkles that shimmered whenever they passed a row of trees and his lips couldn't stop the smile that was already lingering. Since when did Mew see Tul this amazed before? Certainly, Tul's childish jubilance brought upon the childhood memories they had and they came flooding in Mew's passive mind. Morning, noon and night. Day, week and years. Unmistakably and magically, the momentums that Mew dearly treasured and held close in the chambers of his heart. Never to be forgotten or left out...

Maybe, just maybe, he would be just as happy with Tul when he was with Art.

When he was... Alone.

"Mom, who's that?"

Well, if only this small world wouldn't cast upon him such sudden disturbances.

A/N: It's been such a long time absent from Wattpad and I miss trailing my fingers over the keyboard so much since quarantine is over and schoolwork is next. I'm at guilt for keeping you guys (and myself) on a hook that long.

Come to think of it, who else successfully survived quara thanks to MewGulf?